Chapter Forty-Four
February 11th, 1914
New York City, New York
Jack took his time eating a light breakfast and relishing in more coffee before he made his way towards the studio. His mind continually wandered back to Rose, wondering how she was feeling, what she was doing, what was being said to her. He was nervous for her. When he opened the door for the studio, he was greeted by the familiar odor of paint. Frenchie was hauling cans towards the canvas he was going to work on. Iris was sitting on top of a tarp spread across the floor, pouring some dabbles of paint onto Frenchie's palette. Frenchie paused and straightened up when he heard Jack come through the door. His grin reached across his cheeks and he threw his hands up in greeting.
"There you are, brother!" Frenchie crossed to Jack, pulling his arm around his shoulder, "My hero."
"Hero?" Jack furrowed his brow as Frenchie whisked him into the community space.
"The wisest damn man I know," Frenchie continued.
"Frenchie, I didn't do anything," Jack shook his head.
"Well, that's not what Iris has been saying," Frenchie shot him a look before he knelt down and began prying lids off of cans of paint mixed by Jack days before. He stirred the paint around for a moment and looked to his little sister who had finished setting up the palette.
Iris paused and fidgeted with a ring on her finger before she looked up at Jack, "It's true, Jack," She told him, "I thought about what you said... and you were right. I was just giving up," She came to her feet now and smoothed her dress out, "Everything you said to me was ringing in my ears as I stood in line to board the ship. The attendant asked for my ticket and I... I felt like I couldn't think straight. I simply turned around and walked away."
"It's all behind us now," Jack replied, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto his stool, "I'm just glad you're here."
"Oh, it gets even better than that!" Frenchie's eyes lit up from where he was knelt on the ground. He popped up, pulling his sister in close, "Iris is going to start painting with us!"
"Really?" Jack grinned at the thought, "I'm happy to hear that. About damn time you joined us."
Frenchie chuckled ferociously and reached for Jack, pulling everyone in for a big group hug, "You know, when we were children with our own ridiculous dreams and ambitions, I dreamed I had a studio just like this. Filled with my favorite people doing my favorite past time," Frenchie looked to Iris, "This is how Dad would have wanted it, Iris."
"I think so, too," Iris nodded, "I think Daddy would be happy for us."
Frenchie smiled and tightened his grip around Jack and Iris, mashing everyone together. Their chuckles echoed through the studio and finally, they all parted and stared to each one of their own canvases, sketched out, and begging to be completed.
...
Manhattan, New York
Rose had never been to the bordering sister-city. It didn't look much different from New York City. It had tall buildings that gleamed in the chilly afternoon light. It was bustling with many business men, some hurrying along with coffee in their hands, while others chatted with friends and walked slowly, newspapers tucked under their arms. The train station was busy, but Tim knew what he was doing and easily sliced through the packed platform, leaving a wake for Rose to follow in. They went down the stairs and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Tim took a deep breath, adjusting his satchel on his shoulder.
"I always say Manhattan needs another train station," He told her, "It's simply too busy for just one. Five years ago may have been a different story, but this city is taking off."
Rose looked up and down the street. It seemed cleaner and much more modern compared to New York City. She glanced to Tim, "It's rather affluent up here. I've never been to Manhattan."
"This is where my first internship in a law office was back in the 1890's," Tim said as he steered Rose left and they began down the foot path, "It was much different twenty years ago. New York City used to be the place to live. Now, I think it's the other way around. Manhattan has boomed."
Rose turned to brush past a group of people taking up nearly the entire sidewalk. Tim stepped down into the street for a moment, "I thought New York City was big..."
Tim grinned, "Well, if you start working with this publishing company, I bet you'll grow to love Manhattan more than New York City. I know I did, but I chose not to live here because it's rather expensive."
"Well, if you can't afford it, then neither can I," Rose laughed at the thought.
Tim glanced to his wrist watch, "We have enough time to swing by a café, have something to eat, get some coffee, and talk business, if you'd like. I know a great place that's actually not far from the office."
"It would be nice to sit down," Rose said, "I'm kind of tired."
"Great, let's go," Tim replied, "You can never have too much coffee, anyway."
...
New York City, New York
"Ready?" Jack asked, glancing up the ladder Iris was on. She nodded, looking down towards him. Slowly, Jack lifted a palette up to her, "Careful now, you don't want to bleed the colors into each other," Iris bent down, her hand just grabbing hold of the edge.
"Did you two have to go to a college for circus performers?" Iris laughed as she steadied the palette in her hand and balanced it against the ladder, "You make it look so easy."
"Just takes practice," Jack assured her, going back to the communal table and readying his palette, "You'll see. By tomorrow you'll be a pro."
Iris grinned for a moment, dipping her paint brush into the bright red. She glanced around the empty studio. Frenchie was in the back room mixing paint for his own project. Iris looked at the back of Jack as he worked on squeezing paint tubes, "You know, I never thanked you properly, Jack."
"There's nothing to thank me for," He said over his shoulder, "In the end, it was all you, Iris."
"Not just that," She told him, lowering her brush away from the canvas without even making a stroke, "Just everything you did for me following that. Taking me back to your house, making me coffee, letting me just tell you everything... it was so relieving. So, thank you for that, Jack."
Jack grinned and raked his hair from his face. His blue eyes gazed up towards Iris and she felt her heart skip a beat, "It's what friends do, right?"
"Well... I realize now I sincerely appreciate you as my friend, Jack," Iris pushed her hair behind her ear slowly, "I'm lucky to have you in my life."
"The feeling is mutual," Jack laughed, his shoulders bobbing up and down, "I'd much prefer have you here instead of somewhere in Europe," He began to return to his task and looked back to Iris, "Welcome to the team, by the way."
"Thanks for havin' me," Iris replied, freshening her paint brush and beginning her first strokes on the canvas. Jack grinned at the sight and turned back to his palette. He glanced towards the clock as he squeezed some blue from a tube. Rose's meeting would be starting soon. He wondered what she was doing.
...
Manhattan, New York
Rose and Tim were sitting at a small circular table beside a wall-length window. It was a beautiful day out and the sun bathed their spot. Rose enjoyed the warmth it covered her in. She was having a glass of tea and a turkey sandwich. She found herself suddenly hungry the moment they walked through the door. Tim was simply having a coffee as he reviewed some of his documents.
"So, for the magazine contribution," Tim cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, "I think I could squeeze them for ten bucks flat. Typically, they'd give eight, but your story is four hundred and fifty-two words longer than a normal entry, so I think the fact they've accepted something at this length, they should give you more."
"Now, one thing I'm worried about... may I voice that?" Rose asked, dabbing her napkin to her lips.
"Of course," Tim straightened up, "Please, voice any concerns you may have."
"I'm a newcomer to the literary world. I have no name in this pool. I'm worried about coming in a bit... aggressively. I don't want to push anyone or make them believe I'm hard to work with," Rose cleared her throat, "In other words, I don't want them to believe I'm playing lawyer-ball with them."
Tim grinned and took a slow sip of his coffee, "Well, lucky for you, I actually represent this company in the legal field, apart of three other in-house lawyers. I have a great repetoire with them. I've been working for them for four and a half years now."
"Okay, new concern," Rose paused from taking a drink of her tea, "I don't want special treatment or to be published simply because I know someone who knows someone."
"That's not how this is," Tim leaned in towards her, "I promise. I didn't hand it to anybody directly. I put it in one of the agent's boxes in the mailroom. He knew I left it, but all I asked in a small note was to review it, that I had simply come across it. I wanted to know if he thought this was a good fit for the company. You did the rest, Rose, really," He grinned again, his hazel eyes gleaming in the brilliant afternoon light shedding down on them, "Besides, you're not getting special treatment. You waited over three months for a reply and two and half of those months were probably spent in a cluster of other stories. You made it through, but you waited in line, too."
Rose finally smiled after a moment and exhaled, "I'm just really nervous. There's so many different ways this could go, Tim. They could hate me upon first sight. I could say something absurd. I could come across as boring or not very creative. This story they want may be the only good story I ever produce!"
"Well, I only see it going one way," Tim leaned back in his chair, his mug hovering in front of his lips, "You walking out of there with a future in the writing world."
...
The building Tim guided Rose to for the meeting was one of the tallest buildings in upper Manhattan. Rose cocked her head back, staring at the company's name plastered across the top. Her heart was throbbing ferociously in her chest as Tim held the glass door open for her. Rose wandered into the decadent marble lobby slowly, as if she was a lost child. She looked to the crystal chandelier accenting the center of the room. There were large lucious pathos plants lining the softly illuminated marble walls. The thick red rugs running down the hallways helped muffle the patter of shoes.
"Wow," Rose whispered to herself.
"We'll be meeting them on the top level," Tim told her, "Wait until you see the meeting room."
Rose grinned as they stepped into the elevator with the attendant. She waxed and waned rather violently between dire excitement and total terror. Her stomach rustled about and for a moment, she wondered if that turkey sandwich was a good idea. She took the time to square her shoulders and readjusted her dress, glancing to be sure her stomach wasn't noticeable. The doors opened to a fancy corridor that was full of people brushing past each other, stacks of papers in their hands.
"Hello," The secretary greeted Rose. She then turned to look towards her company, "Oh hi, Tim. Nice to see you."
"Hey there, Penelope," Tim grinned, "Thomas is expecting an appointment at one with me and Ms. Dawson here."
"The conference room is ready for you," Penelope said, consulting her ledger, "You're set to go. Thomas will be there as soon as he concludes his current meeting. It shouldn't be more than ten minutes."
"Got it, thanks," Tim nodded, giving her desk a pat. He took Rose down the hallway, "I'm glad we're getting there first. That way you can soak in your surroundings for a few minutes," Tim stopped and opened a door labeled A1. When Rose walked in, she understood what Tim had been saying.
The room was large with a gleaming oak table and tall leather office chairs surrounding it. At the end of the table was a wall that was nothing but a large window. Slowly, Rose walked towards the window. She could see so far over the city. Not a thing obstructed her view. In the distance, she could see New York City, across the wide river, bobbing with ships. Tim took his time unpacking his satchel, occasionally glancing at Rose and grinning. It reminded him of seeing the room for the first time.
"I'll take your coat. Go ahead and get comfortable," Tim said, draping his on the back of his chair and crossing towards Rose.
"I'd rather keep it on," She said over her shoulder, her make up glittering in the light.
"You'll get hot," Tim replied, "Why would you keep it on? It feels nice in here. Central heating."
"I'll be fine," Rose shook her head, "I'd just prefer to have it on."
Tim walked back to his chair and gripped the back of it. He took a curt breath and looked back towards Rose, "You can't even tell."
"I'd rather not tempt fate," Rose looked back out the window, "Who would want to work with an unwed pregnant woman, Tim?"
"They don't have to know about the first part," Tim told her, "You already share his last name."
She lowered her eyes to her shoes for a moment, keeping her back to him, "It'd be best if it didn't come up in the first meeting. As my lawyer, I hope you can respect that."
Tim shuffled his feet for a moment, taking a deep breath. He adjusted his jacket and was about to respond when the door opened and a rather round man with gray hair entered the room.
"Mr. Calvert, good to see you!" He boomed. He swung the door closed behind him and extended his hand, approaching Tim.
"Thomas, hello," Tim grinned, immediately switching into professional mode. He gripped Thomas' hand warmly, "Pleasure, sir."
"Now, is this her? The wonderful and lovely Rose Dawson?" Thomas asked. Rose turned towards him now with a polite grin on her face. She held her hand out to Thomas, "Hello, dear. It's a true pleasure to have you here today. Here, let me take your coat and we can talk business."
Rose was petrified as Thomas removed her coat. He didn't her another glance, however, as he slung it over the back of a seat. He rounded the table himself, looking towards the beautiful day outside. Thomas took a seat, reaching for his discarded briefcase on the table. Rose immediately sunk into a seat, pleased to know the table covered her stomach. Tim looked to Rose for a moment, head to toe, before looking back to Thomas.
"Well," Thomas cleared his throat, "we already know you're being accepted to be published in our monthly magazine. We have over twenty-seven thousand subscribers. It will be a lot of exposure for you, Rose. Our contributors receive about eight dollars a pop."
"I'd like to counter for ten dollars for this submission," Tim said, folding his hands together, "It's longer than your most average contribution."
"I already like you, Rose," Thomas grinned at her, "You're a damned good writer and you're smart, too, having a man like Mr. Calvert protecting your best interest. I accept that counter. Ten dollars for this contribution."
"Thank you," Tim nodded, scribbling something down on his steno pad. Rose grinned.
"And, of course, you'll receive complimentary copies of the magazine to share with loved ones, keep as trophies, you know," Thomas waved his hand dismissively as he pushed a paper to the side to reveal another one, "That's pretty much figured out," Thomas leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs, "There's much more I'd like to get out of this meeting. I like you, Rose. I like you a lot."
"I'm glad you feel that way," Rose said calmly, folding her hands in her lap.
"I feel like there's so much more to you. You know, you can learn a lot by someone through the way they write. The feelings they're able to convey, evoke... it's what makes an author good. But it also makes you wonder how they could come upon that kind of mindset," Thomas grinned, "I feel a lot of promise from a newcomer like you, Rose. Do you think you'd be interesting in working on novels? I think you have a lot to offer."
"Yes," Rose replied, nearly astounded. Her voice almost faltered, "It's, uh, actually be one of my dreams all my life."
"Excellent," Thomas said, leaning forward again, "That's good to hear because you're good at it. I want you to do more of it. And I want to publish it for you," Thomas paused for a moment and looked at Tim before chuckling to himself, "Mr. Calvert, I can see you itching over there to get to logistics, your strong point. Well, let's talk numbers, Mr. Calvert..."
...
New York City, New York
Jack had gone home from the studio around four o'clock. He had beaten Rose to his relief. He fixed himself a small snack and brewed some coffee, anticipating he and Rose had a long evening of catching up to do. After an hour passed, he decided to go upstairs to his office and paint. It was Jack's favorite room in the house. There's nothing more he loved than being in a creative space, where he could be in his own little bubble. Before he knew it, another hour had passed and he heard the door opening. He was standing, when he heard several sets of feet clunking about. Eventually, Rose's harminous voice reached his ears, "... upstairs... last room on the right..."
Jack went to bannister and gazed into the front foyer, "Rose?" He furrowed his brow when he saw two men in coveralls hauling a large box up the stairs.
"Jack! Come down here!"
The men brushed past Jack and he barrelled down the stairs, nearly breathless. Rose grabbed hold of Jack's hands excitedly, "The meeting went really well! Tim got me a really great pay-out to continue writing for them! I just... I can't believe it," She pressed her hand tenderly to her forehead, "I can't even express how wonderful it all is, Jack."
"What did you buy?" He asked, glancing upwards as he heard the men shuffling about upstairs.
"I bought us a crib," Rose told him softly.
Jack paused and looked to Rose. He brought his hand up and tenderly stroked her cheek, "I'm so proud of you," He whispered, gently kissing her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered, her heart leapt in her check, and in that moment, everything finally made sense.